


Farewell

by jung_anders



Series: Connection Threads [3]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Burial traditions, Character Death, Gen, Multi, Saiyan Culture, Saiyans on Earth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jung_anders/pseuds/jung_anders
Summary: Written for Vegetasei week in  "Tradition"  and "Family" categories.When a Saiyan family sends their deceased relatives away, some of them remain. But how?This fic belongs to my AU.The editor of this fic was Usagi19871! Thank you for your patience and tips.Maran belongs to my friend Acaranna. Daikio belongs to me.
Relationships: Beets/Tights/Leek, Brolly/Chirai (Dragon Ball)
Series: Connection Threads [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842904
Comments: 22
Kudos: 24





	1. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marhana - the artist who sculpted the relics. They are usually Moon priests who live in the temple and make their living from their art.
> 
> Shaihab - the bereavement dinner in Saiyan culture.
> 
> Eidha - the relic itself. After the funeral pyre's cremation, the skull is collected from the ashes, and the marhana artist is sculpting a portrait of the passed person over it. They use a special type of clay and paint to preserve and not smash the skull in the process. After receiving the relic, the family stores it in a cool and ventilated nook.

Vegeta landed on the window sill, unlocked the nailing pin. He jumped into the room, leaving it ajar. Today's blazing heat coiled around the body, scorching the skin. The still and dry air burned the lungs and throat like liquid fire. Vegeta wiped his wet forehead and took off his black sneakers. He needed a cold drink and a shower. 

"Feels like home, eh?" He chuckled, shrugging off his backpack. Eshalo bounced out of the bathroom, meowing and rubbing against his legs. Vegeta cracked a smile, caressing her sleek, black fur. "Honk honk. Did you slept in the sink again?" Eshalo squeaked, hopping on his knees. Vegeta sagged against the wall, pinching his nose bridge. 

"Maran will stop by today." He mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Eshalo loafed on his knees, staring at him with her round, yellow eyes. Vegeta sighed, massaging his aching temples. He managed to recover from the scepter disease but still suffered from vertigo, chesty cough, and decreased appetite. His muscles were tense and sore, so each move he made was slow and cramped. 

The SCEAP-20 outbreak caused the death of thousands of Earthlings and dozens of Saiyan people. The typical indication of the disease was chest pain, high body temperature, and weakness. The Saiyan community got struck by a gruesome symptom of rapid _ki_ sap to fatal levels. As someone noticed, "The _marhana_ artists are going to be bloody rich after the pandemic _."_

Vegeta picked Eshalo under her belly and put her on the floor, despite her protesting meows. He had less than two hours to take a shower, have a snack, and doze off. Maran was a punctual lady, and she will make it on time, no matter what. He yanked down his jeans and shook off his red button-down shirt, dashing them to the laundry basket. 

He stepped into the shower, turning the water dial. Lukewarm water rivulets trickled down his dry and heated skin, bringing relief to his stiff and sore body. Vegeta rested his forehead against the cold and wet tiles, losing up and closing his eyes. The faint aroma of spiced shower gel soothed his warped mind. 

After the shower, Vegeta ambled to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, inspecting its content - a jug of homemade turmeric-ginger tea, a couple of eggs, and a jar with peanut butter. Okay, it's time to stock up. Vegeta grabbed the jug and closed the fridge. Maybe there is something in the pantry? Oh, a protein bar. Will do.

He poured the tea into the glass, chewing the protein bar idly. He has to take a look at Nion's old recipe book. She was a matchless cook, but her handwriting was a puzzle by itself. Vegeta thought about rewriting the recipes or typing them down. After decipherment, of course.

Vegeta bit his finger, trying not to howl. He couldn't get the image of his late kin mother out of his mind, reliving that dreadful moment over and over again. 

_"Mother?"_

_Vegeta stood in the doorway of his mother's bedroom, staring at her bed. Nion laid motionless. Her eyes closed, and from what he could judge, she wasn't breathing. Her pale lips were slightly open, and dark circles had formed under her eyes_. 

_Vegeta dropped the keys on the floor, rushing to his mother. He tugged the sleeve of her shirt, trying to trace the pulse with his shaking hands. Her hand was so cold, so stiff. He sensed that she had passed away, but he didn't want to believe it. Nion was a physician in Black Star hospital, and it was a matter of time when the scepter disease would get her. And now, it took her away._

_Vegeta struggled to back up on his unstable feet. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket, calling 911. Shattered thoughts ran through his feverish mind. He had to go to Semphire temple on WST 9678 street and order a funeral pyre. He had to find a marhana artist. He had to clean and disinfect her apartment. Ama'h, there is so much to do._

_When the police and the ambulance arrived, Vegeta tried to stay calm and collected. He answered the paramedic's questions in a monotone voice while gazing at his mother's lifeless body. Maran came as soon as possible, barely containing her rage and tears. Vegeta never saw her like this before. After everyone left, Vegeta and Maran started to clean up their late mother's apartment, collecting her belongings and packing them into black trash bags._

_The memories of the funeral swirled into foggy and obscure pictures. Vegeta remembered the pyre ashes' sharp odor, the orange and red flames illuminating the night skies, and the faint scent of burning hair. He and Maran stared blankly at the pyre, saying farewell to the woman that put her life to raise and protect them. Two days later, he fell ill._

Vegeta swallowed the remains of his tea, tossing the crumpled package into the trash. He trudged to the bedroom and slumped against the mattress, allowing himself to unwind. 

His mobile rang next to his ear, making him jolt upward. Vegeta grabbed the phone, glaring at its screen. Maran. He answered the call, "Yes?" 

"Hey there." Maran's deep, soothing voice flowed from the phone. "Can you open the door, please? My hands are busy."

"Hold on for a second." Vegeta's voice was raspy after sleep. "I'll put some clothes on and come over. My beauty sleep took longer than expected." 

"All good." Maran sighed. "I brought some food. You must be hungry, and you don't have anything edible in your fridge, am I right?" 

Vegeta stumbled in his sweatpants. "How did you?.." He placed his mobile between a shoulder and an ear, pulling the pants up. "Witchcraft?" Maran chuckled, "Call it a woman intuition."

Vegeta grumbled, pulling his tank top over the head, "I'm coming." He got off the phone, tossing it on the bed. 

Vegeta dawdled to the door, opening it. Eshalo frisked behind him, chirping with excitement. Vegeta observed the bags crowded next to his sister's legs, "Need a hand?" Maran slid through the doorway, carrying plastic bags from the supermarket, "Yes. It will be nice." She placed them on the floor, puffing away a strand of her hair. Vegeta dragged the rest of the bags inside, closing the door, "You know you could call me beforehand, right? You raided the store." 

"Considering your appetite? I did." Maran smirked, heading to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, finishing it in a couple of gulps. Eshalo came to her, purring and nuzzling against her legs. Maran smiled, picking her up and scratching between her ears. 

Maran was a slim, elfin woman in her early thirties. Despite the hot weather, she has dressed in a knee-length black dress and black flats. Big, round sunglasses stuck up in her messy auburn locks. Two thin scars crossed her right eye, going down her cheek. Her eyeliner smudged a bit, but it didn't bother her much. She took off her shoes, tossing her bangs aside, "They completed the piece?" 

"He. Yes. " Vegeta unpacked the bags, placing the groceries into the fridge and pantry. "I must admit he did a smart job."

He collected the bags, tucking them into the disposal. "The recommendations matched my expectations."

Maran nodded, staring blankly at the wall. She scratched between Eshalo's ears, slightly rocking in place. After a short pause, she asked with a cracking voice, "Can I see it?" 

"Before the _shaihab_ repast?" Vegeta glanced at her, raising his eyebrow. Maran sniffed, clearing her throat, "You are right. My apologies."

She took a deep breath, putting Eshalo down. "Did you found mother's cookbook? She had some simple recipes up there." 

"Depends on what you call _simple_ ." Vegeta shrugged, spreading his hands. "If you are talking about the _khida,_ then yes _."_

Maran shook her head, chuckling, "You lazy ass. It _is_ a simple recipe! And, I think we got the ingredients for this one."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, walking to his room, "I'll bring the cookbook. Let's deliberate about the menu later." 

When the food was ready, Vegeta and Maran moved the furniture away to make space to put the rug on. When Vegeta unrolled it, Eshalo hopped over it, stretching and clawing the rough _kadda_ fabric. Maran scowled at her, carrying the stewpot, "Shoo, shoo! Not now, Eshalo." Vegeta shook his head, getting up on his feet, "Foolish cat. You have to take part in any activity, ain't you?" 

"Maybe she wants to join the repast." Maran placed the stewpot, trying not to spill the gravy. "She is a family, too."

Vegeta crawled from the mat, snickering, "Eshalo can join it, but having a cat food."

Eshalo rolled on her back, folding her paws. Vegeta propped his hands on his hips, "You little beggar. You'll get food, but yours! Now, get the hell out of the rug."

Eshalo let a short "mew!" and gaited away. 

Maran nestled on the rug, crossing her legs. The customary _shaihab_ meals got served in front of her. According to tradition, the fares were modest and effortless. Maran stared blankly at the plates, trying to distract herself from grim thoughts. 

Vegeta entered the room, holding a gray box. He rested the box on the chair next to the rug, trying not to drop it. Maran grasped the hem of her dress, giving him a desperate look. Vegeta bit his lower lip, pressing the button behind it. Maran gazed at the box, and tears shimmered in her eyes. 

Inside the box was a sculpture of her mother's face. Dark-blue strands of artificial hair framed her waxy face, cascading down the neck. Her vacant stare pierced into Maran's anguish soul. Maran admitted to herself that Vegeta was right about the sculpture's quality. Nion's sharp yet, fragile features got precisely captured by the artisan who worked on the relic. 

Maran released her grip, and two large tears trailed down her cheeks. Her shoulders quivered, and short cries slipped through her clenched teeth. Vegeta came to her, placing his hand on her shoulder, "I told you not to hold on until reaching boiling point."

"You are doing the same." Maran hiccuped, pulling a napkin from the pile. "However, the _marhana_ artist created a masterpiece."

She blotted her eyes, curling her lower lip. Grayish trails of tears and mascara stained her tanned cheeks. Vegeta glanced at her, squeezing her shoulder, "We both do. Have some water, and grab a pillow, if you need to kick something later." Maran plastered a smile, balling the used napkin, "Smartass." 

Vegeta knelt next to Maran, letting go of her shoulder, "Let's dedicate this meal to our mother's memory. Do you want me to dim the box?" Maran shook her head, gazing at it, "She enjoyed watching us eat. Mother always got us the best food she could find, even in hard times." Vegeta slumped his shoulders, nodding slowly. Eshalo returned to the mat, snuggling next to Vegeta's legs. 

Despite the hunger, Vegeta couldn't eat. His throat spasmed, and he had to shovel the food down. Maran barely touched the meal, fondling Eshalo's back. From time to time, she cast a glance at the box with Nion's head. Vegeta noticed this and rested the fork on the plate, "Do you want to take it?"

Maran shuddered and lowered her gaze, "If this is okay. You were the one who arranged the burial and the artist's rituals." 

"It is." Vegeta examined his toes. "I don't have a proper place to store it. Do you? A cold and ventilated one."

Maran's eyes brightened, "Yes, I do. There is a nook next to my bookshelves in my workroom. It can fit." 

"Mondo, cool." Vegeta relaxed his shoulders. " I'll come to visit her from time to time in your place."

He dug his eyes into the box. "Do you hear it, mother? I'll stop by."

Maran playfully poked his side, "Hey, since when you become that soft?"

Vegeta gave her a deadpan glance, "You didn't see it. Deal?"

A faint smile touched Maran's lips, "Deal." 


	2. Father

"There is something wrong with Daikio's face," Leek squinted, studying the alcove's glass box. "I can't spot what, but I can see it."

Tights glanced at it, raising her eyebrow, "Hush, you. It looks neat. Beets picked a skilled person to do the work." 

Daikio's head sculpture rested in the alcove's box. His gray eyes stared vacuously into space, and a weak smile froze on his bloodless lips. As Kale noticed, "No one is safe from grandpa's watch!" 

Tights stepped back, inspecting the box, "Besides, Saiyan's face features are asymmetric, and the artist took it for consideration. You know, when he sculpted over Daikio's skull. Am I right, Beets?"

She turned her head towards him and huffed. Beets sat on the mat, hunkering and murmuring something to himself. Tights came closer to him, snapping her fingers next to his nose. "Hey! Stop praying for a second. We have a debate here!" 

"Huh? What?" Beets raised his gaze, blinking. "Oh, the _eidha_ relic. Yes, Tights is right. The world around us is asymmetric, and so are its inhabitants." He chewed his lips, tilting his head, "Well, except drawn geometrical figures."

Leek snorted, throwing his hands up, "Okay, okay, you brainiacs, I got it. Yeesh." 

Tights victoriously raised her fist, "A-ha! Told you so." She landed on the mat next to Beets, wrapping her hand around his waist, "You heard us, right?"

Beets pinched his nose bridge, "Uh-huh." He chuckled, "To be frank, it was entertaining."

Tights rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Beets got up on his feet, stretching his arms, "I have to warm up the food and chop some fresh salad for dinner."

Leek nodded, moving one of the poufs, "Don't get in your head too deep, buddy. Daikio wouldn't want you to mourn for him too long."

Beets pressed his thin lips to a straight line, "I'll be fine." He marched into the kitchen, slamming the door behind. 

Tights locked her hands together, "We have to do something, Leek. I can't see him like this."

Leek kneeled next to her, hugging her shoulders, "It will be okay, babe. Beets is not at his best at the moment. He lost his father, who raised him since the first day of his life. Let's give him some space, okay?" He kissed her temple, "Go bring the kids. It's dinner time soon." Tights rested her head on his shoulder, "Righty-ho." She slid out of his arms, getting up from the mat.

Tights sauntered outside their block, stepping on the porch. The sun disappeared on the horizon, and a chill breeze replaced the day's draining heat. The azure sky turned into a dark blue, with a slight tint of pink and orange. The porch's cobblestones were hot under her feet, and the air was still dry and sweltering. 

Kale perched on the front yard terrace, playing with the family cat, Pambo. Half _menkhad_ , this chubby orange half cat, was an integral part of their household. Kale waggled the feathered cat teaser above its head while Pambo lazily poked his paw, trying to grab it. Her sandals laid under the terrace, covered with dust. Tights giggled, going down the stairs.

Tights reached the terrace, placing her hand on Kale's shoulder. "Hey there, girl. Where are Broly and Cheelai?" Kale grinned, scratching her nose, "Hi, Tights! They took Baa for a walk." She scratched Pambo's fuzzy belly - a privilege reserved to the chosen family members. Tights smiled, placing herself next to her stepdaughter. Kale tickled Pambo's chin and turned to Tights, "Is dad okay?"

Tights drew her eyebrows together, "I'm afraid not, sweety. Your grandfather's death strongly affected him." Kale hugged her knees, staring at her bare feet, "I miss grandpa too. I don't want dad to blame himself for his death. He did everything to help him." She gave Tights a concerned look, "I have to cheer him up, but I don't know how." 

"He needs time to recover, dear." Tights drew a long breath. Kale bit her fingernail, "I think that grandpa knew he is going to die, you know? The evening before he passed away, he said he loves me very much, and I should assist and protect dad." She sniffed, hugging her legs. Pambo rolled back on his paws, licking Kale's arm. Tights caressed Kale's untamed hair, "Daikio cherished you, don't ever doubt it." 

Kale raised her gaze, and her eyes lit up. She jumped on her feet, springing from the terrace, "Broly! Cheelai!" Tights got up, watching Kale dashing toward a tall, muscular young man and a petite, slender woman. Next to them strode a massive animal with thick green fur and round red eyes. It hung his tongue out, panting and showing its sharp teeth. Kale hugged Broly, chirping from excitement. Tights waved to Broly and Cheelai, giving them a warm smile, "Hello, kids! You returned just in time. Dinner is ready!" 

Broly hugged Kale back, "Okay, aunt Tights. I'll unleash Baa first." Tights raised her thumbs, going back to their block. Kale returned to the terrace, picking Pambo up. The cat let an apathetic "meow" and yawned. Cheelai messed up Baa's fur, "Let's go, big guy. Ole man, Beets probably left some treats for you!" Baa let a low bark, waggling his short tail. Broly unleashed him, scratching his back. 

Tights entered the house, glancing around. Food vessels and dish plates laid on the mat, but the room was empty. Tights peeked into their bedroom - desolated. Beets workroom - nothing. Backyard - nothing. She bit her lip, running her hand through the hair. Where could her mates be? 

Tights paced to the front room, rubbing her chin. When she passed next to the kitchen door, muffled sobs came out. Her heart flinched, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. It must be Beets. His pride averted him from crying in front of anyone, even in front of his mates. She pushed the door, tiptoeing inside. 

Both of the men huddled next to the pantry door. Leek held Beets' head close to his shoulder, tangling his fingers into his hair. He slightly rocked on the place, saying something in muted tones. Tights moved forward, but a voice in her head called on, " _Don't."_

 _"Are you sure?"_ Tights bit her cheek, clutching her necklace. A bitter chuckle echoed through her head, " _He will go crazy if you or the kids will see him in this state. It took me five frigging minutes until he let me in! Uh-oh, the kids are in the house! We need a distraction maneuvering."_

 _"Gotcha."_ Tights snuck out, closing the door behind. Kale, Broly, and Cheelai squished through the door, laughing and chatting. Baa galumphed in right after, pushing Broly from behind with comedic enthusiasm. Tights put a smile on her face, "Hello, guys! Now, wash your hands and grab a seat! Make sure to watch your step!" Kale scratched Pambo between his ears, searching around, "Hey, where's dad and uncle Leek?" 

"They are still in the kitchen." Tights plonked on the floor pillow, glaring at the door. "Cleaning." Kale nestled on the pouf, cuddling with Pambo. Cheelai rested on the mat, observing her surroundings. Broly told her about Saiyan's bereavement customs; however, it was hard to watch. 

Broly drooped next to her, scratching behind his head, "I know it's not the best situation to be in, but grandpa Daikio was a central figure in our lives."

Cheelai patted his burly forearm, "It's okay, big boy. He was a worthy person and deserved to get a proper vale. I liked his sense of humor." She gazed at the cubicle, propping her chin on her palm, "Even when he got diagnosed with bone cancer." 

"Hey, kiddos!" Leek stepped out of the kitchen, plastering a smile. "I'm proud of you! You didn't overturn the dishes like yesterday!" He strolled to the bedroom, " I'll change the clothes and return in a bit!"

Kale called, "Hey, uncle Leek! Is dad still cleaning? Does he need help?" 

Cheelai chuckled, "It's his work therapy, girl. Ole man is probably chanting there now. Poor dude! He was embarrassed the last time I entered the kitchen!" Kale sighed, "Dad is convinced that he has zero musical sense." Cheelai gave a half shrug, "It wasn't bad. Your dad is a priest. They sure had vocal lessons." 

Leek returned to the living room, collapsing on the pouf, "Beets decided to pass away in the kitchen and leave us with the burial expenses. Let's construct another nook for his head."

Before he finished the sentence, Beets walked out of the kitchen, holding a jug, "First, may the Mother nuke your ass, and second - you can apply to the Calendolo's temple prioress after I drop off. She would take the expenses and find a place for my _eidha_." He put the jug on the mat, contorting himself next to Tights. She noticed his red-rimmed eyes and swollen lips.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Leek laughed. "Did Canba bit you today? Nice dodge!" Beets grinned sarcastically, "You should be grateful that I didn't declare Tuber's famous poem _Rudha Dashar._ There are kids here." Kale pouted, "I'm thirteen!" Beets' face flushed, and everyone burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

"Now, now, " Tights wiped the tear from the eye corner, "After a good banter, it's time to have a decent meal. I'm sure Daikio appreciated that one." She placed her hand on Beets' spine, caressing it. He gave her a quivering smile, turning away.

Later that night, Beets laid on the bed, surrounded by his mates. Tights and Leek clung to him, resting their heads on his chest. Their calm breath managed to unwind his mind a little, but the pain didn't go away. Daikio was there for him, and he was useless against the disease that took him away. Now, he should protect the family alone. 

And he will. 


End file.
